


What's Happening, Brother?

by JHarkness



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Sibling Bonding, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:12:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7897555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHarkness/pseuds/JHarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yolanda finds Dizzee stealing her makeup, and instead of telling her parents, chooses to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Happening, Brother?

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen a lot of people talking about how well Boo Boo would handle the situation and how understanding he would be, and it made me wonder how Yolanda would react. I hope you enjoy! I wanted to contribute something to this wonderful fandom, even if it's just something short and fluffy.

_ Are they still getting down _

_ Where we used to go and dance? _

_ And tell me friend, how in the world have you been? _

_ Tell me, what's out and I want to know what's in. _

 

Dizzee excused himself from the table with something vaguely philosophical, citing the moon and galaxies, stars and city lights. His brothers rolled their eyes and returned to their casserole happily, while his father’s eyes bored into him. “I won’t be gettin’ no calls about my boy behind bars again, will I?”

“I told you, pop art,” Dizzee lied again, waving his hands. He almost sighed when he noticed how clean his nails were, how bare and colorless. At least that could be fixed.

Yolanda didn’t even look away from Mylene. They were huddled close, giggling over something--probably Zeke. Dizzee watched a slight blush climbing over Mylene’s cheeks. Definitely Zeke.

Certain they would be occupied for some time, Dizzee sauntered to his room. He opened the door and clicked it closed, loud enough for his family to hear, and then doubled back to his sister’s room. It smelled heavily of various floral fragrances, and Dizzee wrinkled his nose. Everything was bright and clean, fireworks of pink offset by white curtains and carpeting. There was a softness to it not unlike Thor’s lips. Dizzee brought his fingers to his own mouth to touch the smile forming there.

Taking in the room, Dizzee’s eyes caught a colorful collection of brushes. His smile grew broader. Yolanda’s vanity was overflowing with eyeshadow, blush, foundation, and sundry other items Dizzee didn’t even know how to name. But he was only there for a few things, and he set to work.

The nail polish was easy to locate; bright little bottles separated by color were a shock against the dark oak of the vanity, like spray paint on the rusted metal of the trains. Dizzee picked out the colors similarly, favoring the bright greens of Rumi and electric yellows of Thor’s designs. Glancing back at the door, he pocketed the polish and opened the main drawer.

To Yolanda, there might have been some system of organization, but Dizzee was lost. His brow wrinkled as he tried to find the small eyeliner pencil he had seen his sister use the night she went dancing. He huffed in frustration, pawing through the tins and palettes.

“What the fuck,” Dizzee muttered, straightening his back. He stared down at the mess of makeup with his hands on his hips.

“That’s my line.”

Dizzee jumped slightly and slammed the drawer closed, heart pounding. Yolanda stood at her door, hip leaning on the frame. Eyes narrowed and arms crossed, she jutted her chin out accusingly.

“Why you in here, D?” She asked. Her voice wasn’t as cold as Dizzee expected. The tone was almost curious, and it made Dizzee bite back the lie he had prepared. He ended up staring at her, mouth slightly ajar. Yolanda’s expression morphed into a grin.

“You got a girl, huh? Little ladies’ man, finally settling down.”

“Um.” Dizzee looked down, rubbing his sweaty palms together. She had given him the perfect out--all he had to say was yes, claim he was stealing it to give to his girl because he didn’t want to look like a fag buying his own--but the words wouldn’t come.

She closed the door and rushed forward, slapping him lightly on the shoulder excitedly as she laughed. Yolanda’s voice lowered as she pulled him to sit on the bed with her. “Who is she? That cute chick from the party?” Again, Dizzee felt his mouth go dry and was unable to respond.

“Well these aren’t her colors, D,” she chastised on, collecting the nail polish from his pockets, “and girls don’t like used makeup.”

“You’re not angry?” He inquired dumbly instead, watching the polish bottles roll around on the bed covers between them. Yolanda snorted.

“I’m pissed, Dizzee, but I ain’t stupid.”

In a burst of nervous energy, Dizzee let out a single bark of laughter, feeling bad as soon as the sound escaped his lungs. Yolanda’s mouth twitched.

“I didn’t mean it like that--” Dizzee began, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry.” He looked back down at his hands, thinking about how well Thor’s fingers fit in the spaces between his. His cheeks felt hot. “It’s just--” Throat tight, he stood suddenly, making the bed creak. Yolanda cocked her head.

“The makeup isn’t for a girl. It’s for me.”

Yolanda’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and then her lips pulled back into a toothy smile. She jumped to hug her brother. Dizzee stumbled, arms lifting to catch her out of pure shock.

“I know,” she said when she pulled away.

“Wha--what?”

Yolanda returned to the bed and patted the spot beside her, nodding hesitantly. “I know you don’t have a girl, D. And I know you painted your nails for your music thing.” She pressed her arm flush against her brother’s, leaning into his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Dizzee let out a shuddering breath, grasping for Yolanda’s hand. He could only recall one other time that they had sat like this, when they were younger and uninterested in rivalry, friends, girlfriends. Boyfriends.

Patting Dizzee’s knee, Yolanda used her other hand to retrieve the nail polish and line it up on her nightstand. Once it was settled, she stood, leaving Dizzee to his trembling hands and flushed chest.

“What were you lookin’ for?” She asked, pulling the vanity drawer open again. Dizzee glanced up, ignoring the way his eyes burned when he looked at his sister. “Eyeliner,” he told her, unsurprised when his voice came out watery. Yolanda bit her lip thoughtfully. Rummaging through the clutter, she grunted in annoyance until she found the pencil. With a triumphant cry, she skipped across the small space to the bed and flopped down, laughing when the motion almost sent Dizzee to the floor.

“Here,” Dizzee’s sister said once he was upright again. She pressed the pencil’s cap into his palm and raised her eyebrows pointedly. “Don’t move.”

Dizzee began to ask her what she was doing when her hand pressed to his cheek, stilling his face. The eyeliner pencil was close--very close--and he felt his breathing speed. But he didn’t move, even when his eyes watered. It tickled like nothing he had ever felt, and Yolanda laughed quietly as she wiped the smears of black created by his tears.

When she finished, Yolanda tapped Dizzee’s knuckles. He opened his hand, relaxing his grip and starting when he found he had gripped the cap tight enough to dig its shape into his palm. It was replaced by two colors of nail polish; the green Dizzee had chosen earlier and a hot pink that reminded him of the lights in the club.

Tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth, Yolanda lifted Dizzee’s hands and shook the bottle. Dizzee almost protested that he could paint his own nails, but the feeling of her smooth hands over his own, the comfort of the room, and the love in her eyes made him swallow it down. He offered a gentle smile instead and found himself talking to her easily. She never asked a single question, but Dizzee told her everything anyway--told her about Thor and the club and the kiss. Told her how he wasn’t sure he’d ever connected with someone in that way, that he thought maybe this was what love was like. Not love like Zeke and Maylene, he pressed, but something even stronger. Cosmic. Yolanda’s eyes sparkled when he said it, but her lips remained firmly closed unless she was blowing on the polish to dry it.

Dizzee wasn’t sure if he should thank his sister when she stood to put all of her makeup back in the vanity. He felt whole again, as if the colors of his soul were finally visible. But he also felt naked, exposed.

When he was dragged to the mirror to view her work, he gasped.

Dizzee realized that it wasn’t until this moment that he had really seen himself when he looked in the mirror; sure, it was  _ him _ , but this--this was his entire self. Like he had been flipped inside out, nothing to hide. Yolanda’s hands gripped his shoulders, and her shining face appeared next to his. “I’m too good, ain’t I? Won’t be able to keep ‘em off you.” She didn’t say boys, but the implication was there, and it made Dizzee bolder. He stood straighter and let himself agree--he was irresistible.  _ Not that it really mattered _ , he thought.

He only wanted Thor to like it.

**Author's Note:**

> The title and introductory lyrics are from the Marvin Gaye song "What's Happening, Brother?"


End file.
